


the one where they make pancakes

by CORVlDAE (orphan_account)



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: First Meetings, HS AU, jay is trans gn streaks, thats really it, they make pancakes together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CORVlDAE
Summary: alex kralie, timothy wright, and a bowl of pancake batter cross paths.
Kudos: 13





	the one where they make pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello!! i'm corvidae! i'll keep it short; this is my first fic on ao3, after days of revising i thought it was time for it to be posted publicly, i hope you enjoy! ^^ writing's my hobby, so if you have any critiques i'd gladly hear them :]

Admittedly, preparing pancakes at four in the morning is not something that Jay's schedule is familiar with. And yet, when his body is dragged out of the sheets and into the kitchen by his pain-in-the-ass of a roommate to make some, he can't oppose.

He seriously cannot. Alex is standing right beside him, monitoring every single motion with a pout and a frown. Because he, at the young and inexperienced age of seven-fucking-teen, cannot make them himself. God forbid he uses his dainty little film-maker hands to work on anything other than a script.

But the breaking point is another; it's when Alex complains about the consistency of the mixture (because he'd obviously know better) that Jay gives a shuddering sigh, and with one fell swoop the whisk is tossed back into the gooey substance.

"I'm giving up and going back to bed." He announces with solemnity (and a bit of annoyance), turning to stare daggers at the other boy.

"You can't." Alex argues, opening his arms as to block his passage.

There's one thing he fails to take into consideration, though; that is the fact Jay towers him easily. And so he slips right pasts him.

Seeing his strategy fail, Alex initiates plan B.

"Waitwaitwait please please don't go to bed" He whines, flipping a switch on his tone. "Hey hey hey- c'mon hey Jay please don't leave me I can't do this myself-"

Completely disregarding the desperation in Alex's act Jay flips his middle finger, digging his way back into the pile of blankets, Alex tugging at his leg spouting more miserable gibberish his brain is too tired to process. It'd almost be a comedic scene, if only they weren't on the brink of adulthood and arguing over one of the most notoriously simple dishes in existence. 

"Nope. No. Google how to make it. Goodnight." Jay has now morphed into a bump under the covers, and it's clear Alex can pull all he wants, he's already made up his mind.

Okay. Time for plan C. 

Who cares about that, anyways? (Well, Alex. Alex does.) He'll just have to find someone else to help him make some godforsaken pancakes. Simple.

Right?

Sadly moping back to the stove, Alex thinks about who he could call. Jay was lenient enough to help him in the first stage, but it's far too early to bother anyone else. Maybe he could ask Amy- no, not Amy, never Amy. He's specifically trying to make a good first impression with her. Sadly bestowing his bowl full of unfinished pancake batter upon her would be the opposite.

That about sums up all of Alex's contacts.

Tapping his fingers along the counter, Alex ponders. He doesn't want to just throw it away, that'd be a waste- his wallet aches at the thought. He'd rather eat it raw than trash it, and for a moment he debates actually following up with that idea.

Then the thought of paying medical bills pops up in his mind. He shudders. 

This is unbelievable. 

Alex? Kneeling in defeat before the insurmountable task of preparing a plate of pancakes?

Alex R. Kralie? Also known as the soon-to-be most notorious director Hollywood has ever seen?

This is unacceptable. Alex's hands clench into fists, and he stares into the batter as if it could stare back. No, he's determined. 

About five minutes pass before Alex hurls his phone against the couch and groans into his palms.

Three sentences in and Alex is already getting lost, this is hopeless. Still, that's nowhere near a conclusion; it's clear Alex needs help, but he's already deduced there's nobody to ask.

Or is there? Granted, the thought of wandering around the halls carrying a bowl in hopes that someone is still up, and that they're kind enough to willingly help him is not the most inviting, but what else can he do?

It's settled.

He welcomes the container into his arms with the same tenderness a mother would with her own child, and parts off. 

The sounds of his shoes clicking against the pristine floors of the school accompany him throughout his journey, an incredibly eventful journey that lasts about two floors, before his patience runs out and he lets his back slide against the wall, bowl sitting in his lap.

He gazes into it, almost awaiting an answer from the batter itself, but it's silent all around him. The mixture mocks him almost. How could Jay do this to him? He's lost, alone, and starving. And he's cold. The floor is cold. Why'd he sit on the floor of all places? This sucks, he grumbles. 

"Are you okay?" 

Lost in his own thoughts, a foreign voice is enough to drag Alex back to that dull hall, and he lifts his chin to look up. A man is standing in front of him, flannel draping over his frame. Alex can tell he has a vague beard, and though it's too dark to discern his expression, from his voice alone he understands he's rather confused.

"Uh-" This is perfect, Alex thinks, this is exactly what he needs. "Yeah- Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

The man lifts a brow. "I'm okay." He hesitates.

"Cool." 

This awkward.

"So... you're not feeling sick or anything?" He asks again, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Uh, no." 

"Okay. Cool. See you then." The stranger shrugs, turning heels, but Alex frantically stops him.

"Aren't you gonna ask me about the bowl?" His eyes are brought down to the object, and his expression twists.

"...It's not really my business. See you around." Alex's shoulders drop as he's dismissed so harshly, and his face has morphed into pure fear.

"Wait! Wait-" He yelps, springing to his feet.

And the stranger stops. 

"I... need help." Alex admits, looking down in shame.

"What?"

"With... Uh, this. I don't know how to make pancakes and my roommate ditched me."

It's a miracle the stranger doesn't think Alex is under the influence or anything of that nature, because were the roles swapped, that's what he'd think for sure. He sounds insane right now.  
"Okay, so... Do you need me to help you?" 

Alex shrugs. "Well, I don't want to throw it away, so." 

The stranger nods as if to say 'fair enough', and motions for him to come with as he slowly slips back into the lesser illuminated part of the halls. Alex hurriedly follows.

Their stop is the man's dorm.

Twisting the key in the lock, the door clicks open, and Alex quietly steps inside.

"What's your name?" The other suddenly asks- he supposes it's adequate to at least know each other name's before they commence this jointed pancake-making experience.

"Alex Kralie," He answers, seeing the man's face instantly light up.

"Ohh, that's why your so familiar; my roommate shares theater class with you. He's told me stuff." The man explains. 

"Ah." Ah. "Good stuff?" 

"...Yes." He falteringly replies, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. Something tells Alex it's not 'good stuff', but who is he to judge?

"Anyways, my name's Tim."

There's a bit of awkward silence before Tim carefully takes the bowl and sets it on his counter, Alex hopping beside it to sit and watch. 

"Sooo... do I get to eat some after we make them?" The other man jokes, stirring the blend. 

"Yeah, I don't see why not." 

It's actually somewhat enjoyable, observing Tim cook, masterfully flipping each pancake until he's acquired a nice stack. He figures it's because he's not really doing anything besides swinging his legs from the counter.

Sometime later, their pile has grown a considerable amount.

"These are pretty good," Tim remarks, cutting another piece of the pancake.

Alex agrees whole heartedly- Jay's cooking is he best, but he suspects it's also thanks to Tim's care if they taste so good. His mouth his stuffed. It's not exactly a pretty sight, but it's definitely a sign he's liking the food. 

"It was unexpectedly fun," He also adds, which makes Alex's head tilt. Fun? That's not exactly his definition of fun, but he's glad to hear Tim doesn't think it was a complete waste of time, at the very least.

"Yeah," He simply adds, before another thought takes over. "Oh, yeah! You never told me why you were walking around in the halls." Alex elaborates, smiling.

Tim beams. "Don't tell anyone," He prefaces, "But I may or may not have gotten my hands of a certain set of spare keys that take you to the roof."

Wow. That doesn't sound legal at all.

But holy shit does it sound cool. Alex is almost impressed.

"Really?"

Tim nods. "I could show you sometime, if you'd like." 

―

That's how the night progresses, with friendly banter, jokes. Alex almost forgets the fact that, by all accounts, Tim is still a stranger, and not an old friend. But it feels like it, and if he had to put it to words, he'd say it's a rather warm feeling.

It's nice, and by the end it also wins him his phone number. Another potential victim to pester were Jay to dump him mid-cooking again, but that was a given already- Tim was the one to suggest that in the first place.

It's around six or something when Alex trudges back to his room, exhausted, feeling his own weight like a sort of anchor chained to his foot and holding him back. The college is coming back to life, students beginning to pollute the halls again, teachers directed to their respective classes. 

Swinging the door open, Alex immediately sinks in the soft mattress of his bed.

No way he's getting up now.


End file.
